


Bad Fun

by LittleFace



Category: The Cult (Band)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Desert, Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Motorcycles, Rare Fandoms, Rare Pairings, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24110947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleFace/pseuds/LittleFace
Summary: It's 1988 and Ian and Billy are taking a break before recording their next album Sonic Temple.They've recently just purchased motorcycles and are living up the life of luxury in the far west American Desert when a few technical issues lead to Billy having to give up his usual comfortable position of authority in their relationship.Fluffy as hell :)Set directly after another fic I wrote set in '87 on the Electric tour where their relationship is established. I may publish it but I'm not sure yet as it was the first fic I wrote and I've improved since then.
Relationships: Ian Astbury/Billy Duffy
Kudos: 2





	Bad Fun

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:  
> As always with any RPF please remember use viewer discretion as I obviously respect the privacy etc of Ian and Billy and the fact they have partners lol

The year was 1988 and the sun was beating down, unrelenting, just as it had been in the prior days the two rock stars had been in the Californian desert on holiday together.  
After successfully cutting their teeth in the music world, Ian and Billy needed a new task to tackle together before they moved on to recording their next album. And both had agreed learning to ride motorcycles was a “fucking great idea” (in Ian Astbury’s words).   
Taking a look at any press shot of The Cult, an onlooker wouldn’t of been shocked if it was stated that the two main songwriters in the band were veteran riders. They’d have been wrong, however, as contrary to the image they put out, both men hadn’t as much as sat in the saddle of a Harley.

‘But what about the Lil’ Devil video?’ one might ask. Billy Duffy chuckled as he recalled the making of that music video. He’d been sat in the saddle of a motorcycle, which was strapped to the back of a van, and filmed from below as to give the illusion he was cruising along. Now, he was doing it for real- on his own without the on looking eyes of their instructor. At the side of him, was his best friend Ian Astbury on his own bike, which was chrome black. A striking comparison to Billy’s own which was painted red.  
The scene in front of them would have seemed almost alien to both men who grew up surrounded by bleak, grey stone flags and a grit unique to, and found only geographically in the North of England. But they’d made it here, to the outback of America, cruising along, kicking up dust like a strange Northern English offshoot of the Hells Angels. The Coal Miners maybe their name would be.   
Ian sniggered as the idea entered his mind.   
“Oi Billy!” he yelled over the roar of the engines, maneuvering his head away from the oncoming cloud of dust and his own hair, both making a beeline for his mouth, he still wasn’t used to this damn thing yet.   
Billy’s ruddy face creased at the suggestion of their motorcycle gang name.  
“That’s the worst name I’ve heard in my life, mate” he replied animatedly.   
Billy had to admit; this new hobby both had taken up had helped them kick the worst of their more indulgent habits into shape.   
The amount of drinking they’d both done on the Electric tour last year shocked and surprised everyone around them. It was a surprise to they themselves that they’d both made it out alive, really.   
Now, they were both sober (most of the time), and had been taking the time they had free to spending as much time with one another as they could muster outside of writing and recording professionally together. There had been minor squabbles, and the ones that had happened were usually resolved by Billy instructing Ian to remove his clothes.   
Life: it was good for once. 

-

It was late afternoon now, and the sun was at its peak in the sky. Both men had come to a halt at the side of the dust track for a break.   
“I’m fucking boiling” Ian exhaled, wafting the trickles of perspiration from his forehead with the brim of his favourite new hat, which featured skull and crossbones.   
“Should of taken my advice and not worn all black, idiot” Billy laughed, leaning against his bike.   
Indeed, the guitarist had dressed more suitably for the Californian heat- simple denim trousers and an open vest exposing his bare chest.   
Ian, ever the fashionista had stuck to his guns and insisted on a black jacket and un-breathable trousers.   
“You can take it off you know, nobody is around” Billy suggested, motioning to the top portion of Ian’s outfit.   
Ian shook his head. He’d become slightly self-conscious of the weight he had gained as a result of the alcohol consumption last year.  
“Suit yourself then, we should probably head back, it’s getting late and the sun will be setting soon anyway” Billy retorted, swinging a heavily booted foot over his motorcycle.   
Ian followed Billy’s example, and following the rumble of their engines, the two once again set off.

-

It was ten minutes later, when they came to a halt once more.  
“Oh….oh shit” Ian mouthed, noticing the drop in acceleration on the dial from his own bike.   
“Billy!” he shouted over the noise.   
The back of Billy’s bleach blonde mop turned to notice a concerned looking Ian dragging behind.   
“Oh for fuck sake” he mouthed, understanding the situation immediately. He knew Ian too well, and he knew Ian often got caught up in the moment, and lacked forward thinking as a result of that.  
"Dopey fucking sod forgot to refill the tank didn’t he…”, the guitarist cursed to the ground under his shaking mop of hair.   
Ian anticipated the mouthful he was going to receive as a result of his forgetfulness as he watched Billy saunter over to him, the wind tousling his hair playfully.   
“What’s up?” Billy asked rhetorically, he knew exactly what was up.  
Ian motioned to the fuel gauge meekly,  
“I know, I know I’m a fucking idiot and I should of checked before we set out”  
“Too fucking right you should of, how are we going to get your bike home now?” Billy grumbled.  
“There’s a petrol station not too far from here, we passed it on our way in” Ian replied in a hopeful tone.  
An awkward moment of silence passed by the two who sat watching the wind sway the succulents.   
Billy heaved a sigh before he spoke again, “you’re a silly bugger sometimes, you know that?”  
He couldn’t stay angry with Ian very long these days, if anything- Ian’s silly ways made him love the singer even more.   
A hand found its way around Ian’s waist, pulling him up from where he sat. His lips feverishly met Billy’s, which were warm and dry from the heat.   
“But you wouldn’t have half as much fun in life if it wasn’t for my silly ways now would you?” Ian replied, savoring the taste of Billy on his lips.  
Billy considered the statement Ian had just made, because it was true. Billy’s practical nature never lent itself over easy to spontaneous situations such as the one they currently found themselves in.   
Billy nodded, a gaping smile finding its way on to his face involuntarily.   
“Come on then, we’d best get a move on”.

-

When they reached the petrol station, Ian was drenched in sweat.   
After numerous unsuccessful probes from Billy to just remove the top portion of his clothes, Ian had started to resemble a walking pool of moisture behind the heavy bike he was painstakingly pushing along.   
“Jesus, you’re really self conscious about this aren’t you?” Billy thought out loud, lounging into his seat as his bike chugged along at the side of the singer at a snails pace.   
“Easy for you to say…” Ian heaved, glancing at Billy’s lean torso which the guitarist had been working on since the start of the year,   
“It doesn’t matter, we’re here now anyway”. 

The sun was slowly starting to sink below the horizon now, and the sky had turned into a cocktail of pink and indigo hues when the two men walked over to the dusty oil pumps. A solitary figure of a frail tan man who looked to be about sixty worked a few feet from where they stood.   
After the chugging of Billy’s engine was quieted, the only noise offered to break up the silence was the strike of a match being lifted to light a cigarette he held between his lips.   
“That should do…” Ian said, placing the pump back into its holster and drifting off to pay the greying man.  
Billy nodded as he exhaled a cloud of smoke into the air above him.  
Stubbing the cigarette out on the brick wall behind, he returned back to his bike, preparing to leave again.  
Only, they were halted once more when what should have sounded as a healthy purr from his engine, came a humongous cough and a plume of black smoke from the exhaust.   
“Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me,” he growled, gripping the handles angrily.   
“What’s up?” Ian called over the racket now being roused from the fully appeased tank in his own bike.  
“Something just doesn’t want us to get home tonight…” Billy grumbled, staring back at the never-ending clouds of black smoke funneling out of his exhaust.   
“At least we’re at the station now, maybe he can help,” Ian replied, pointing to the man he’d paid not a minute ago.

It seemed the man was ten steps ahead of them, having already noticed the situation, making large paces towards them both.  
“For the love of God please, please tell me you’re a mechanic, mate” Billy desperately said as he turned the ignition off.  
“I, well, I actually am…” the man said as he knelt down to inspect the issue.   
Billy heaved a momentary sigh of relief.  
“Yeah man, I could fix it for you tonight but it might take a few hours depending on what the problem is…” came the man’s voice from below them both.   
Another angry grumble escaped Billy and a few awkward minutes passed whilst the mechanic diagnosed the issue with his bike.  
“I’m sorry buddy, it seems you need a part replacing,” the mechanic said apologetically from under his cap, “I have a buddy up the way who can deliver it to me tonight, but you’re gonna be waiting a few hours I’m afraid”.  
Billy nodded in understanding, “alright…”  
The gravel rumbled slightly under the tires as Ian rolled over to where they were stood, “come on, we’ll pass the time” he smiled motioning for Billy to get on the back of his bike.  
A slight rush of embarrassment came over him as he swung his leg over to the passenger seat behind Ian, placing sturdy hands on his partner’s hips. It was the first time he’d been a passenger on any bike- never mind Ian’s- and he couldn’t help but feel a little strange being in a passive position for once.

-

“Slow down would you?” Billy mumbled from where he had his head pressed into Ian’s shoulder blades.   
They were racing by again; back on the dusty outback roads under a milky pink sky.  
Ian, ever the loose canon, had acquired a taste for speed early on in their lessons, and had been scolded multiple times by their instructor for it.   
“I can’t help it with you behind me like this,” Ian replied flustered, the only sensation he could currently comprehend being the tight grip Billy’s arms had around his waist.   
“What do you want me to do? You do know if we crash you have more of a chance of surviving it,” his partner replied from behind, tightening his grip further.   
“Who’s the silly sod now? I’m not the one that wore nothing but a pair of damn jeans and a denim vest to ride a motorcycle in” Ian replied, becoming further flustered with the space closing in between him and his band-mate.   
“Oh shut up, I don’t go as fast as you anyway,” Billy's brow furrowing as he watched the haze of orange and yellow hues pass by.

To Ian, having Billy behind him in such a vulnerable position was a new and odd feeling to comprehend. He couldn’t help but get a thrill from scaring his partner slightly- he found Billy’s grappling in fear to be quite cute. A smirk grew on Ian’s face as he accelerated more, and to his delight found Billy pushing himself further into his back.   
“Fucking pack it in!” Billy yelled over the roar of the engine, squeezing his eyes shut, his bare arms trembling now.   
Ian let out a maniacal laugh,  
“We’re only doing 70!”   
“Again, I’d like to reiterate I am not sufficiently dressed for doing 70 sodding miles-per-hour!”.  
The sentence didn’t as much as register with the singer who was enjoying the situation far too much.  
Billy couldn’t tell if he was turning bright red from adrenaline; the anger or the embarrassment. He felt like a frightened child. Losing control was not his thing at all, and he wasn’t going to take this much longer. 

Peeling open his eyes, he felt around where his hands were glued to Ian’s form.   
A gasp escaped from the singer who felt the familiar touch of Billy’s callused fingertips run under his t-shirt, caressing his soft stomach.  
A clump of hair found its way into his mouth as he opened it to gasp again.  
“Slow down, Ian” Billy ordered.  
Ian shook his head; he was enjoying being in control for once.   
In the next moment, he shivered as he felt Billy’s breath inches from his ear,  
“slow down,” he ordered again, stressing the latter half of the sentence.   
Another resolute shake from the singer’s head, as they continued at the same velocity.   
Billy’s hand found itself digging deeper into Ian’s top, his other free hand dropping slightly closer to Ian’s belt as he buried his face into Ian’s neck, planting a kiss on his jugular.   
Ian couldn’t take it anymore. He was bound to give in to Billy’s demands at some point. The guitarist simply had a way with making him bend to his will in all aspects of their relationship. 

When they finally came to a halt, Billy heartily swung his form away from the bike to stand safely on his own two feet once more.  
Ian -still visibly flustered from what had transpired between them- sat and stared, his eyes scanning his partner.   
“Oh you are not going to just leave me like this” Ian moaned from his position in the saddle.   
Billy brought his arms up behind his head, the late afternoon sun from behind blacking out his figure, “I don’t know, am I?” he smirked.  
“We are in the middle of nowhere…” Ian mused.   
Billy creased over in laughter,  
“You asked for it, Ian”.  
Ian, who still sat looking to his partner longingly, began removing his jacket.  
“Not arsed about taking your clothes off now are you?” Billy cracked up, pacing around in boredom.   
Ian scowled, he knew damn right he’d lost this argument.   
“Alright, on one condition…” Billy said, closing the gap between them both.  
Ian’s heavily hooded eyes searched into Billy’s icy blue eyes, “what? Anything…”  
“I drive us home” he growled, pushing his lips into his partner’s.

-

“Brr…it’s getting a bit chilly isn’t it?” Billy shivered, embracing himself.   
The sun had sunk way below the horizon now, and only a hint of the day’s light remained over the two men who lay flat in the sand of the desert together.   
“I would make another joke about your wardrobe choice again but I can’t say much now anyway”, a half-naked Ian replied, “here…” he paused to re-do his belt buckle to search out his jacket that had been discarded in a frenzy not too long ago.   
The evening wind tousled Billy’s hair softly as he watched Ian’s form wander off against a backdrop of stars, and a smile spread across his face.  
“Thanks”, he said, taking the jacket from Ian and running his arms through the sleeves.   
“We don’t really get to see the stars this clearly in the city…” Ian mused, taking his place back beside Billy.   
The guitarist nodded, “that’s true, we should get stranded in the desert more often I think”.   
They both let out a laugh, and Billy felt Ian’s fingers intertwine with his own.  
“Why are your fingers are always so soft, Ian?” he paused, and asked with a slightly sarcastic tone, “do you moisturise them or something?”   
“Well I don’t make a living out of shredding on guitar, I make a living by shredding the fuck out of my voice” Ian chuckled, “if you took a look at my vocal chords they’re probably as calloused as your damn fingers”.  
“Shhh, you love them though” Billy whispered, brushing aside Ian’s mane of black hair away from his face to plant a kiss on the singer’s cheek.   
Ian responded with a grin and a quick playful peck on the tip of his partner’s nose.  
“It’s getting pretty late now, your bike is probably fixed” Ian said, now taking note of how cold it was getting too.   
“Do you want your jacket back?” Billy asked as they climbed to their feet.  
Ian shook his head, “its fine man, I have my t-shirt…”, he dropped down to pick up the said remaining article of his clothing, “and it looks cute on you anyway…my keys are in the left pocket”.  
Ian, who had still remembered his promise from earlier, swooped on to the passenger seat of his own bike. He found his arms once more safely locked around the waist of Billy Duffy as they sped off into the night- at a leisurely pace of course.   
The rest of the world was simply just going to have to wait for them this time.


End file.
